The Past Burned to Pieces
by Don't Forget About Me
Summary: "Love only causes hurt. That he knew. He learned that from his mother. She had been his father's true love. And look at her now, all corrupt and sinister. It was utterly disgusting." Zachary Goode grew up with a horrible childhood of never knowing how to act. Catherine Goode is raising her child with a deathly secret. Joe descides to go MIA when needed most. One shot, Zach-centric


**The Past Burned to Pieces**

_A bad childhood is the perfect background for Covert Ops –Burn Notice, Season One, and Episode One._

* * *

Zachary Goode walked through the busy halls of his elementary school. He looked at all of the kids inviting one another over after school to play video games.

Zach sighed. He didn't have that luxury. His mother wanted him straight home every day, locking him in his room and telling him to stay out of the basement. Smacking him around when he didn't do as he was told. Which Zach seemed to do all the time.

She had her stupid, giant friends punch him, forming bruises and cracking ribs at his young age of thirteen years. The only time she was in a good mood was when she was home from one of her meetings and drunk. Even then, all she would do was send him to his room.

His mother was in the kitchen talking to her Doctor, who was always prescribing some sort of drug to her. Zach rushed up to his bedroom, trying to avoid her. He hated her with a fiery passion. It was sick.

He didn't dare touch the window; an alarm would be set off. He just threw his book bag off of his shoulder and zipped it open, revealing the packets of homework that would take him minutes and other children hours. Zach maintained perfect score in every class without a breath. The other children envied him. The girls swooned over his every move, which he noticed, but did nothing about. _Love only causes hurt. _That he knew. He learned that from his mother. She had been his father's true love. And look at her now, all corrupt and sinister. It was utterly disgusting.

His green eyes bore into the math sheet in front of him as his hand rapidly filed the answers. The teachers were confused with his superior learning. They hadn't seen a student like this before –he was only in the sixth grade and was taking senior math.

Not that he knew…or so they thought.

* * *

Zach woke up one hot August morning, craving a cold iced tea. Slipping on his socks, he hopped out of his bed.

"Another day, another bore." He muttered to himself. But today would be like no other.

Before leaving his room, Zach noticed the scrap of paper lying on his desk, untouched. He suspiciously picked it up and read it to himself.

_Hello, Zachary. Good morning. Well, not for you. Little do you know, today will be your last day in Washington, D.C. You'll be leaving for the Blackthorne Institute today. Pack your bags, sweetheart. Bus comes in an hour. Be out by then. Aw, no tears. Mother knows best. Best of wishes, Zachary. Good luck out in the real world. _

_All my love, _

_Mother. _

He read it over and over. She was shipping him away. Off into foreign land, like he was some sort of FedEx delivery. He scowled at the note, wanted to tear it to pieces. Instead he shoved it in his over-sized sweatpants pocket, to be soon forgotten.

He slammed open his closet door and threw his suitcase and duffel bag onto his bed. Walking to his dresser, he opened his drawers and threw all of his clothes on his bed beside the navy duffel bag and roomy suitcase. One of the few useful things his mom had taught him was how to pack for space and lightly, but also bringing everything you needed. He brought precisely four pairs of shoes, five T-shirts, six undershirts, four dressing shirts, his laptop, which was a gift from his MIA Uncle Joe. He packed his boxers, his sweatpants and all of his laptop essentials. He packed three pairs of jeans, a fairly large amount of socks, and a book bag. He threw the extra necessities into individual plastic bags and put them neatly in his duffel bag. Throwing in a few hoodies and sweatshirts, Zach threw the bag around his shoulder and hauled the suitcase off the bed, smoothing down his duvet and saying goodbye to his room for the last time.

Turning towards the door, he noticed his much-loved and abandoned stuffed animal on his shelf, Mr. Bananas the Monkey. His hard expression softened as he looked at it, and he quickly grabbed it off the shelf and stuffed it into his sweatpants' pocket, accompanying the note from Catherine. Zach was still a bit soft inside.

He shut his door and made his way downstairs, grabbing an apple and opening the door, where the bus was waiting for him.

_Goodbye, D.C. Hello, Blackthorne. _

So Zachary Goode walked out of his house for the last time, closed the door behind him, and sealed his fate.

* * *

In the cellar, Catherine Goode sat in a desk chair, surrounded by Circle members. A man with a wide stomach and an evil grin smiled deviously.

"Well, boys." He said to the men. "It's time."

"Mr. Sanders, am I officially a –"Catherine didn't finish her sentence, because Mr. Sanders had slapped her across the face.

"That's Dr. Sanders. And you were not asked to speak, love." He barked at her. She bit her tongue and held in the words she wanted so badly to say.

"As I was saying," Dr. Sanders hissed in Catherine's face. "It is time to proceed. Catherine, love? Have you been taking the drugs?"

Catherine nodded painfully. Those drugs, those painful, stinging drugs she'd been taking for over a month now. Every time she'd taken them, swallowed those awfully hard pills, she'd be lightheaded. Dizzy. Drunken off of a single pill. She'd feel controlled. Robotic.

But the option was take them, or death. For Catherine… and Zach.

Every time Catherine had taken those drugs, she'd been brainwashed for a split second, she swore it. She'd only remember certain things, _important_ things. She remembered loved ones, past experiences. But nothing recently.

"Good, good." He said, smiling a fake grin. "Check her medicine cabinets." He ordered a burly man. "Search her room." He told another. "Rummage through her garbage. You better hope we don't find a single pill." He snapped at Catherine. She smirked, knowing they wouldn't. They were either digested, or hidden inside Zach's old stuffed animal.

Ten minutes later, the members came back, declaring Catherine was clean.

"So. We may continue unto the last step." Dr. Sanders told them. He commanded Catherine to take a pledge to the Circle of Cavan (which she did…half-willingly).

"…for as long as I shall live." She finished. Dr. Sanders nodded. He looked at one of his men, who responded by reaching into his jacket and pulling out a large needle filled with acid green liquid.

"Just one, quick injection, Catherine. That's all it takes." He said, approaching her. She gulped, a huge lump in her throat. "This won't hurt a bit." He assured her, lying terribly. She closed her eyes as the needle slowly pressed her skin. It rested there before breaking it open, filling her whole body with poison.

That was when everything became dark for Catherine Amelia Goode.

* * *

Zach carefully stepped out of the bus, greeted by barb wires and electric fences. The grass was wet and dewy beneath his feet, making his toes curl and the touch. He walked towards the spiked and booby-trapped entrance, the ground crunching under his now-soaked sneakers.

He looked up from his fixed gaze on the ground and saw the entire Institute.

"Whoa."

Zach didn't have any idea what his mother had just gotten him into.

* * *

He held the schedule in one hand, his bags in the other.

"Room 101…" he muttered to himself. "Is… right here." Stopping in front the room. He took a deep breath, opened the door with a push, and surveyed the room. A bronze boy with beach-blonde hair in board shorts and a white tee looked up from his position over his Nintendo.

"Hey, dude! I'm Grant." He said, tossing his game system on one of the three desks there and giving Zach a knuckle-touch.

"Hey, man. I'm Zach." Zach replied, flinging his bags on an empty bed. There was another bed in the room, and unlike Grant's (which had clothes all over it), there was an abandoned MacBook sitting on it. Zach nodded towards the bed and desk. "Whose stuff is that?"

"Oh, that's Jo's." He replied, punching his thumbs on the keys intently.

"Joseph's?"

"No, actually it's Jonas." A voice from behind Zach answered him. "But good try."

Zach turned around, seeing an organized boy his age with ink black hair and light skin, dressed in a collared shirt and khaki pants. "Hello, it's nice to meet you. I'm Jonas, Jonas James." He said politely to Zach, and shook his hand, much unlike the knuckle-touch he got from Grant.

"Hey, I'm Zach Goode. Sorry I didn't see before, I didn't notice you in here." Zach apologized.

"No worries, Zach. I was in the bathroom, so…"

"Ah, okay." Zach replied. He figured he'd like his roommates nicely, they seemed cool enough.

_This won't be _that_ bad… right?_

* * *

Dr. Sanders pulled the needle out of Catherine's limp arm. She was in a dark and dreamless sleep, and would be for another three days.

"Find a place for her to stay, and stay here." He ordered the men. "Come to Blackthorne in four years' time. After those three days, when Catherine awakens, she shall take my place as temporary leader, do you understand?" He asked them. They nodded, all under the spell of Dr. Sander's pure evil ways. "Good. You are to have no contact with me whatsoever, besides the fact that we will all be meeting in the Roosevelt Hotel once a year. Well, this is farewell for now, boys. Have an excellent day." He said, pulling on his glasses. "I, my friends, have a school to run."

Dr. Steven Sanders walked out of the pale white house contrasting the dark night, and got in a taxi to the airport, soon to be on a plane to the middle of Maine… to The Blackthorne Institute for Troubled Young Men.

* * *

Three years later, Zachary Goode walked out of the helicopter, accompanied by a few of his fellow students, and onto the roof of the Smithsonian in D.C.

"And to think I thought I wouldn't have to be here ever again…" he muttered.

"Well, think again." Zach turned around. His eyes widened and his smirk grew into a grin as he recognized the man behind him.

"Uncle Joe?" He asked, astonished. Joe Solomon's eyes twinkled as he saw Zach since he was merely eleven, and now he was his size and making all the girls swoon.

"The very man." Joe winked. Joe Solomon momentarily became soft when he held out his hand and Zach shook it, but Joe instead pulled him into a man hug and patted him on the back. "Goodness, son. You've really grown up on me, huh?"

"I know, Uncle Joe. I haven't seen you in five years. Where've you been?"

"Gallagher." Joe shrugged.

"Oh! The place with the spy girls? The one mom went to?" Zach asked.

"Yeah, that one." Joe rolled his eyes at "spy girls". "Anyway, I had to come up her so I could instruct you to do something. I need you, _just_ you, to tail a very, very special girl for me, Zach."

"Sure. Which girl?" Joe handed Zach a file folder. He opened it cautiously, but was anxious to see what was inside. "That girl." He pointed to a dark blonde with light skin and blue eyes. "Her name is Cameron Ann Morgan, codename is Chameleon, and won't be easy. I can guarantee you that."

"She's –", Zach was careful to choose his next words. "Pretty. Very, _very_ pretty."

Joe glared. "That's my goddaughter, so watch it." Zach looked at him.

"I'm your god_son_, I think we'll get along just fine." He smirked.

"She knows about Blackthorne, Zach. So act surprised if or when she mentions it to you. What she _doesn't_ know is what you boys really do. So you're a spy from here on out, okay?"

"Yes sir!" He mocked. Joe glared. "What is it, Uncle Joe?" He said, innocent as ever.

"That's right!" He snapped his fingers. "You can't call me "Uncle Joe" anymore. We don't know each other, okay? And maybe I don't like you." He added, winking again.

"Right. Okay. See ya, _Mr. Solomon._" He laughed, walking away. Joe turned before he called out, "Oh, one more thing, Zach!" Zach looked at him curiously. "Don't fall for her too hard."

"No promises." Zach whispered in reply.

But Joe was gone.

* * *

"Hey, Gallagher Girl."

"Hey yourself, Blackthorne Boy."

And thus, the rebellious love was born.

* * *

**so? enjoyable? did you guys like it? :) it was something new for me :) but i must admit that writing Zach's past was incredibly fun, and Catherine is amazing to write and think up. :D one of my brand-new favourites ;) **

**so how's summer going for you guys? :) anything fun? :) i just joined a pick-up soccer league, so i thought i would update this beforehand. :) i hope y'all are having a great time out of school, or a good last few days :) **

**expect some more updates for other stories this weekend! :D probably less next week since i have this big church thing all week, but i'll see if i can get some in :) this was fun, but it's only a one-shot, guys :) Maybe a two shot if i get lucky with ideas haha :) **

**review for me? :) Goodbye for now, lovies :) **


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